Hellbourne (9 page)

Bran wrapped himself around Luc as if to prevent him from escaping. Nuzzling his neck, the alpha pulled back after a moment. “You smell odd.”

“Hmmm.” Luc was starting to drift.

“You smell like that kid in your house.”

“He’s not a kid,” Luc said sleepily. “I think he’s a hundred or something.”

A long lick tickled his throat, making him giggle. Sniffing continued and Bran lifted Luc’s hand lapping at his palm. “What’s this?”

“Jerrod’s mark.”

“His
what?!
”

“Don’t yell.”

“How can I not yell? You let some baby vamp mark you?”

“I didn’t let him.” Luc glared at Bran in annoyance. “It was a mistake. I saved him from his master and by some funky vampire process it made me his new master.”

Bran’s warm hands stroked Luc’s shoulders. “Sorry I yelled, baby. What do we need to do to find him a new master?”

“According to Nikko, I’m his master until one of us dies.”

Bran gave him an evil grin. “I can take care of that.”

Luc punched him.

“Ow.” Bran said, cradling his shoulder.

“I forgot how bony you are.”

“Ha! Serves you right,” Bran said, placing a kiss on Luc’s cheek. “You shouldn’t beat your lover.”

“Bran, I don’t know what to do. I’d love nothing more than to come back and be your mate, but I have Jerrod I’m responsible for now. I just can’t abandon the kid.”

“Give him to Nikko,” Bran said ruthlessly.

“I can’t just give him to Nikko. His last master abused him. He needs care, protection, blood.”

Bran sighed. “He can’t live here. The other weres wouldn’t tolerate it.”

Luc nodded. “I know, but I can’t leave him to fend for himself either. I think it’s best if I stay where I am.”

“What about your birthday? It’s only three days away. You’ll need preparation if you hope to survive your father’s persuasion.”

“I know.” Luc swallowed around the ball of fear lodged in his throat.

Every birthday, his father pulled Luc down into hell to try to convince him to give up his soul and become an official Hell Lord. As the only son born with a soul, Luc was an object of personal pride to his father. Lucifer senior wanted his son’s soul, but he was absurdly pleased when Luc survived his challenges each year. The devil’s theory was that the longer Luc resisted, the stronger Hell Lord he would make. Each year his test was a little more difficult until it mostly consisted of Luc surviving as much torture as his brothers could dish out.

What the devil didn’t know was that his older sons didn’t try as hard as they could. None of them wanted the devil’s favourite to join them in hell. With Luc there, they would all lose ranking, as Lucifer had vowed to make his half-fae offspring his right hand man. Even with his brothers holding back, Luc still returned bruised, bloody and burned after every challenge.

In the past, to keep sane from the torture, Luc focussed on Bran. When he concentrated on his lover, his mind and soul felt complete. He was torn in too many ways with the current situation.

Bran flicked the necklace around Luc’s neck. “Still wearing his collar, love?”

The low menace in the alpha’s voice made Luc shiver. “I was going to return it, but he told me to keep it for now.”

“Of course he did.” Bran sat up, running his hands through his shiny black hair. “He wants you to return to him. Each time you look in the mirror you see that damned jewelled collar and he knows he has you. Give it back to him. Tell him you aren’t interested.” The commanding tone in Bran’s voice erased the tender words shared moments ago.

“I’m
not
interested,” Luc protested. “But you can’t just fling a priceless necklace at a vampire who thinks he’s your mate.”

“Mate!” Bran roared. “He’s not your fucking mate!”

“I didn’t say he was. Shit, maybe I should go home.”

“No.” Bran wrapped Luc in his arms, stopping him from leaving the bed. “I’m sorry. This whole thing has me spinning. I just got you back. I don’t want to lose you so quickly.”

“You’re not losing me, but sometimes things aren’t always so black and white. I will tell Nikko that we’re back together, but I don’t want to start an interspecies war. You’re going to have enough on your plate with Betsy’s pack. We have to approach this diplomatically.”

“I’m not a diplomat,” Bran said, nipping at Luc’s neck. “I’m your mate and I’ll protect you with every last breath in my body. Stay with me, baby. We’ll discuss this tomorrow. We have some makeup sex to get to.”

Suddenly breathless, Luc laughed. It felt as if it were the beginning of their relationship when everything was new. As if he were still the centre of Bran’s world.

How he’d missed that look.

There wasn’t much time for reflection before Bran yanked Luc to him, using his huge muscled body to pin Luc’s lighter frame. His world shrank to Bran’s beautiful amber eyes as the alpha dipped his head and took Luc’s mouth as if he were food, water and everything necessary in life.

The months prior to Luc’s departure had been filled with tension and pain after the alpha made his decision to seek a female mate. Now, it was as if those days had never happened. This was the old Bran. The one he’d loved for so long.

Nothing could beat the familiarity of a lover who knew where all the hot spots were on your body. One who knew his nipples were sensitive and how to rub that bit of skin on his hip to drive him completely insane.

Luc gave himself over to Bran’s touch. He was floating. Enjoying sensations only his werewolf lover knew how to cause.

Unexpectedly, Bran slid down his body, licking and nuzzling his way until he settled between Luc’s legs and swallowed his cock in one long slide. With big hands pinning him, he was at the werewolf’s mercy, unable to move his hips.

Whimpering mindlessly, Luc’s head whipped back and forth. “I’m coming!”

A low growl vibrated through his body, making him shoot down his lover’s throat. Panting, he tried to calm his racing heart as Bran lifted his legs and exposed Luc’s hole to his hungry amber gaze.

“Who do you belong to?” Bran demanded.

Luc had to unscramble the words in his sex-muddled head. “You. I’m yours, Bran.”

“Remember that.” He released Luc long enough to grab some lubricant from the nightstand drawer and coat his fingers. First, one finger slid inside, then another, then finally three fingers moved in and out of his hole. When the alpha was satisfied Luc was open enough, Bran removed his fingers and slid his cock inside.

“You will always be mine. I don’t care what the vampires think.”

Luc clamped down on Bran’s body. If his lover could still speak, he wasn’t doing a very good job of distracting him.

The werewolf’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Fuck!”

Bran’s long fingers wrapped around Luc’s cock, knowing exactly where to pump and squeeze with the ease of long familiarity. A few hard pumps later had them coming together.

His lover collapsed on top of him.

“Umph.”

“Sorry.” Bran slid out and off of Luc, leaving him empty, but at least able to breathe.

Moments later a warm cloth wiped him clean. “Sleep, baby. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Chapter Seven

Luc was having the best dream. A hot wet mouth was sliding over his body, licking and nipping at his most sensitive spots and making him squirm from the sensation. It wasn’t until his cock was taken in one quick swallow that he realised he wasn’t dreaming.

Blinking his eyes, he tried to focus on the dark head bobbing up and down.

“Fuck Bran, that feels sooo good.” He let out a low moan. His lover liked to hear his sounds when they had sex. The beauty of the man sucking him off was enough to send him over the edge.

Unfazed, the werewolf swallowed all of Luc’s fluid without spilling a drop. When there was no more, that amazing mouth lifted and gold eyes blinked up at him, heavy with desire.

“You taste amazing,” Bran said as he crawled up Luc’s body

When Bran leant down and kissed him, Luc could taste himself on his lover’s tongue, something that excited him even as he found it mildly disgusting. He loved the taste of a lover but didn’t particularly like his own cum. A fact the werewolf was well aware of as he gave him a wicked smile.

“You taste better than anyone I’ve ever been with,” Bran said.

A knock sounded on the door.

Bran rolled off Luc and yelled, “Enter!”

Sal appeared in the doorway with a covered tray. “I thought you two might be hungry.”

“You’re a doll,” Luc said, sitting up in bed. He was starved. His stomach growled as he looked expectantly at the tray.

Unfolding the legs, Sal set the tray over Luc’s lap and lifted the cover exposing fresh-squeezed orange juice and tons of food—thick slabs of ham, fried eggs, a pile of home style potatoes and a stack of buttered toast.

“I think I’m supposed to share this,” Luc laughed.

“Good thing. I don’t think you could fit all that into your scrawny body,” Bran said.

Luc gasped in mock outrage. “Did you just call me scrawny?”

Bran scratched his heavily muscled chest and gave him a taunting smile. “Maybe I meant puny.”

Sal snatched the tray up just as Luc attacked Bran, finding his sensitive spots. He plundered the werewolf’s silky flesh until the alpha howled with outrage.

“All right, you win,” Bran said, tears of laughter running down his face. “I should know better than to wrestle with someone who knows where I’m ticklish.”

“Yes, you should,” Luc agreed. He settled back against the pillows and Sal returned the tray with an odd look in his eyes.

Luc tilted his head as he examined his old friend. “Are you all right, Salvador?”

Sal gave him a half-hearted smile. “It’s good to have you back, Luc. We all missed you.”

“It’s good to be back.” Maybe he was being paranoid, but there was a little voice in the back of his head telling him something was wrong. Sal’s smile didn’t reach his eyes and the man looked nervous.

Luc shook his head at his stupidity. This was Sal, one of his closest friends; he would talk about what was bothering him when he was ready.

Smiling at Sal, Luc took a long sip of his orange juice. He savoured the rich fruity tang, letting the flavour soak into his mouth before swallowing. After eating some eggs and ham, he took another sip of juice. A strange taste coated his tongue.

“This juice has an odd aftertaste. Different brand?” Who knew what the wolves were buying now? Wolves in general weren’t known for their love of fruit.

The werewolf nodded, but Luc could see beads of sweat dotting Sal’s brow.

It felt hot. No wonder the werewolf was sweating.

Luc struggled for a breath. Feeling like he couldn’t pull enough oxygen into his lungs, he started to panic. Something was definitely not right.

His body began to go numb. He tried to grab at Bran as his vision greyed around the edges.

As he succumbed to darkness, Bran screamed, “Luc, no!”

* * * *

Death wasn’t bad. He couldn’t die—well, not permanently. When Luc died, his soul returned to his childhood bedroom while his body repaired the damage. Lucifer had taken great pains to make sure his youngest son would always survive no matter what. Why he went to so much trouble was a mystery to Luc, but it came in handy.

The only problem was that while his body rebounded from mortal death, his spirit went home—to hell.

Flames flared around Luc, but without his physical form they couldn’t touch him.

“Greetings, brother.”

Luc turned to see his brother, Galthine, standing in his room. There was never a positive reason for one of his brothers hunting him down. Not to mention, Galthine seemed to know he was coming.

Trap.

“Greetings.”

Galthine was monstrous. He was seven feet of rippling muscle with great horns piercing his skull and a pair of red, leathery wings tucked tight against his back. He was the oldest of Luc’s five brothers and the only one who could breathe fire. Something he did constantly during Luc’s birthday challenges.

Luc flinched at the memory of his last birthday challenge when his skin had been charred and crispy from Galthine’s flames.

“Come with me.”

Luc knew better than to refuse his brother without reason. He was glad his physical form was at the Pack house. His brother couldn’t harm him in this form, but it didn’t stop the memories. All of Luc’s previous birthdays began to surface. His brothers were not allowed to touch him outside of the challenge. If they did, it was reported to father and they were sent to the lowest hell for retribution.

Floating behind his brother, Luc followed Galthine into his private torture studio. Careful to look only at the ground, Luc didn’t want to see what caused the screams coming from the walls. Last time he was here, bodies were dangling from the ceiling by meat hooks.

“Happy Birthday.” Galthine’s smile was pointed and wicked. He waved his hand towards a hunk of red flesh lying in the middle of the room.